


Lemonade

by quartetship



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-16
Updated: 2014-10-16
Packaged: 2018-02-21 10:53:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2465609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quartetship/pseuds/quartetship
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You - really? Well... you could've mentioned it before now!"</p>
<p>Jean & Marco make some lemonade...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lemonade

**Author's Note:**

> Modern au; the boys are about 15-16 here?
> 
> Originally a birthday gift for the sweet & wonderful Andy!
> 
> Thanks for reading! :)
> 
> \--

"Can you guys help me?"

It was a simple request, and coming from Marco's plucky little sister Isabelle, it was one that was hard to say no to, regardless of the fact that Jean was over. Izzy was the kind of kid that even someone like him couldn't ignore. They put down their Xbox controllers and gave her their attention, albeit a little begrudgingly on Jean's part.

"What do you need help with, kiddo?" Marco patted the couch beside him. His sister plopped down beside him and threw her sock-clad feet into his lap. Jean pretended to gag and she poked his arm with her toes.

"The dance team is having a bake sale tonight at the grocery store and I'm supposed to bring something. I have practice before then though, and I'll be gone most of the day. Mom's not home until eight, so--"

"We can't bake, half-pint." Marco answered before Jean had a chance to, which was probably for the best. Izzy shook her head and grinned.

"I'm just supposed to bring lemonade to sell. You guys can make lemonade, right?"

Marco turned to look hesitantly at Jean, who was staring back at him and his sister, expressionless. When she added under her breath "I'm sure even a kid my age could do it", his eyes drew down and he nodded, arms crossed.

"Of course we can make lemonade. You think we're stupid, kiddo?"

Isabelle crossed her arms stubbornly to match his. "Like the homemade kind? With real lemons and stuff? Nobody's gonna buy the other kind."

She was  _clearly_ baiting him. And Jean was  _clearly_ falling for it.

"No problem!" Jean said surely, without so much as looking Marco's way to consult him. "We'll have it waiting by the time you get back from your little practice."

"If you're  _sure_ you guys can handle it..." She trailed off as she stood and rounded the couch, plucking her duffle bag from the floor and grabbing a pair of tennis shoes. Jean scoffed.

"Handle it.  _Tch_ ."

She tied the final knot on her shoe and headed toward the front door, bag tossed over her shoulder. "Okay, well I'm gonna walk down to Sarah's house and ride with her to practice. Just don't make a big mess, okay Marc?"

Marco nodded solemnly. Jean huffed again. This time Marco spoke first, hoping to keep Jean's foot from going any further into his mouth.

"How much do you need us to make?"

She shrugged and answered flippantly as she headed out the door. "Probably at least enough to fill up the blue cooler." With that Isabelle was gone, and Marco turned back to glare at Jean.

\--

'The blue cooler' was a thirteen gallon drink dispenser, made for entire sports teams to drink from, or dump over the head of a coach. Oddly enough, that was exactly what Marco felt like doing to Jean as they eyed the jug and groaned.

"Why did you tell her we'd do it?"

Jean folded his arms over his chest again and huffed. "Dude, she was throwin down a challenge. You heard her. My pride was at stake."

Marco rolled his eyes. "She's a nine year old girl. If a kid can injure your pride over  _lemonade_ \--"

"How about we just make it and stop discussing ancient history, hm?"

"Do you even know how to make lemonade from scratch?" Marco asked, finally getting to the point Jean was so masterfully avoiding. Jean laughed and shrugged dismissively.

"No, but if a kid can do it, we can."

"There's the nine year old talking again..."

Jean balled his fist and held it up under Marco's nose. "I'm gonna show  _you_ who's nine years old." Marco let out a dragging sigh and cupped his hand over Jean's, pulling it away.

" _Right_ . How about you just Google a recipe and I'll dig out the stuff."

After snarling - or rather, pouting - at him for another long moment, Jean complied, and slid his phone from his pocket to pull up instructions.

Jean was always that way - stubborn, hot headed, maybe a little childish - and Marco always had to be the one to haul him back out of the trouble his mouth got him into. But Marco liked him anyway, probably a little too much for his own good. He shook his head thinking about it as he rifled through cabinets for measuring cups and spoons. At least this time it was only lemonade.

"Says a cup of sugar and six lemons for each batch. Makes about... eight cups." Jean read from the screen lazily as he slouched onto the countertop, eyeing Marco. "Dude, do you guys even have that many lemons?"

"Apparently" Marco sighed, pulling a massive bag of yellow fruits from the refrigerator. Jean grumbled to himself and rubbed his temples.

"Little minx was planning this shit."

"Just grab a knife out of that drawer" Marco said flatly. "We've got a lot to do."

\--

Lemons squeezed and sliced, an open bag of sugar sitting on the counter beside the sink, Marco listened to Jean's instructions as he read a recipe aloud from the screen of his phone. When he'd finished, it was a perfect, sunny yellow, just begging to be poured over ice. So he did, and handed a small glass to Jean as well. However, it was far less delicious than it looked, and Jean had no qualms about letting him know.

"That tastes like ass, Marco. You gotta add more sugar!"

"Well sorry I didn't want the people buying it to go into a diabetic coma before they left the parking lot. I was just following your directions."

Jean frowned. "Well that recipe sucked. Dump that out and let's find another one."

So they set about trying to find a better balance, and to make something people would actually want to drink, and maybe even pay for. Marco figured they'd hit on it after a try to two. But Marco was known to be a bit too optimistic...

Too bitter.

Too sweet.

Too watered down.

_Were there even lemons in that batch?_

Pitcher after pitcher full of wasted water was poured down the sink. When they finally found a recipe Marco deemed acceptable, they set to making it in bulk, dumping gallon upon gallon into the waiting cooler. Every batch got easier to make, and Marco wagered it was better tasting, too. As he stirred the last pitcher full, Jean groused over his shoulder about not having tasted a single drop of the fruits of their labor. Marco sighed and picked up a ladle from a basket beside the sink and dipped it into the lemonade.

"Here, then" he said, offering it out to Jean. "Taste."

Marco held the spoon and waited. Jean twisted his mouth to one side and eyed him for a moment before leaning in, sipping from it. Marco watched him, his reluctant expression slowly relaxing as he opened his mouth. He looked back at Marco, up at him from the angle he was bent at, through half closed eyes. An unfamiliar tightness wrapped itself around Marco's chest until he couldn't breathe properly anymore. He could only stare at his best friend, drinking lemonade from a spoon.

_Why couldn't he move? When did things get weird?_ The thoughts knocked at an unanswered door at the back of Marco's mind.

Jean must've felt a little weird, too. He stared at Marco like he was trying to figure him out, and when he'd finished the entire spoonful of the drink, he stepped back to look at him at eye level. Marco noticed the way his lips shined in the filtered sunlight of the kitchen, still wet with sweet liquid. Jean licked them instinctively, and Marco felt the constriction around his chest tighten further. He forced himself to blink, but it wasn't enough to hide his staring.

"You alright, man?"

Marco heard Jean ask it, but the words had to bounce around in his brain for a while before he could process them enough to answer. When he did it was with a still-distracted nod. Jean raised an eyebrow, but didn't push the issue.

Marco swallowed the dryness settling in his throat. He'd always thought Jean was good looking, but it had never gone much further than an offhand mention played off as friendly conversation. Looking at him with sugary lips and a rising blush across his face made it very hard for Marco to maintain a platonic perspective. He cleared his throat, distantly aware of how long the silence between them had dragged out to be.

"Is it good?" he asked, and Jean nodded.

"Yeah, pretty awesome. Taste it."

Marco turned to dip the spoon back into the pitcher, clumsily banging his hand on the counter before he could make it that far. Jean sighed and shuffled him backward out of the way.

"Here, just--" he dipped his cupped hand into the liquid and held it up - another under it to catch the droplets falling from it - for Marco to drink from. Marco couldn't stop his eyebrows from shooting up toward his hairline in surprise.

"I'm clean," Jean promised. "I just washed my hands. Now take a drink." He shoved his dripping hand almost flush against Marco's lips and gave him little alternative. Marco took a drink.

Maybe he was imagining the way Jean's lips parted with a little gasp as he opened his own; he was sure he wasn't inventing Jean's stare in his mind. He drank fast to keep from blushing furiously under Jean's gaze, but could feel himself failing miserably as the cool lemonade trickled down his quickly warming chin. He backed away, more than a little embarrassed. To his further surprise, Jean stepped forward after him, wiping at his wet face and never looking away from his mouth.

"Good, yeah?" Jean breathed, closer to Marco's face than he had been before. Marco nodded automatically. Jean's lips quirked into a small smirk. "You slammed it, man. You thirsty?"

Before Marco could think to respond in a way that wouldn't be totally socially reprehensible, he choked out the first thing to flash across his mind as he stood staring at Jean.

"You have no idea."

Jean looked at him for another long, awkward moment before mercifully turning away. When he did, Marco let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding and silently chastised himself for being a total creep. Jean glanced back at him over his shoulder with something that resembled a mischievous glint in his eyes, and Marco sucked in another painfully deep breath.

"You want me to pour you a glass?" Jean asked. He reached into the cabinet and pulled a cup from it without waiting for a response. He tipped the pitcher over it and poured without taking his eyes off Marco, even as it spilled over the rim and onto his hand.

"Whoops" he grinned, setting the glass down and pulling his hand away. And then - eyes never leaving Marco's - he brought his hand to his mouth and licked the back of his fingers.

_Stop this now. Make fun of him for being weird. Keep it from getting weirder._

Marco's brain was screaming, but it was drowned out by the hammering in his chest, the rush of his pulse thumping in his ears. He couldn't look away, and that only made Jean bolder.

He licked up to his wrist, turning his hand to trail his tongue across his palm. He lapped at his fingertips, and didn't bother hiding the satisfied smile pulling at his mouth as he watched Marco's reactions. When he dipped a finger into his mouth and sucked, Marco stopped trying to stifle those reactions.

He sighed, loud enough that he knew Jean could hear it, and Jean grinned around the knuckles in his mouth. He bit the back of his finger and bared his teeth, just until Marco took notice. He apparently knew  _exactly_ what he was doing, and against his better judgment, Marco didn't question it.

After making sure there was absolutely no lemonade left on his skin, Jean turned back to pick up the glass as if nothing had happened, leaving Marco still struggling for breath beside him. But instead of handing him the cup, he held it up to Marco's mouth and waited. Marco swallowed hard and bent forward to take a drink.

As soon as the sugary drink made it past his lips, Jean pulled the glass away, tossing it into the sink with total disregard. It splattered over the sides of the sink basin as he closed the distance between he and Marco and pressed their lips together. Marco didn't push him away, didn't stop him, didn't think - he just let the taste of Jean mingle with lemons and sugar.

It was forceful, sort of stubborn, like everything with Jean. Once Marco's mouth parted though, things were slower and softer, until drink-sweetened lips and tongues slid against each other smoothly. There wasn't time for all the curiosity Marco was harboring, or for him to think about why it was happening; there was only a hurried pace and Jean's enthusiastic sighs to urge him not to stop, not to even  _breathe_ .

When they finally pulled away from each other, Marco could feel his face threatening to burst into flames. He bit his kiss-swollen lip and tried not to look at Jean, but it was impossible with the hiccups of laughter bubbling out of him. His face was bright pink too, but decidedly more confident. He smiled wider than Marco had ever seen, and something inside Marco's chest thundered with pride knowing where that grin had come from, even if he still didn't exactly know what was going on.

" _God_ , I've wanted to do that for forever!" Jean laughed. Marco's jaw dropped a bit before he could stop it, and then he pushed hard at Jean's arm.

"You -  _really_ ? Well... you could've mentioned it before  _now_ ! Instead of acting like an asshole half the time."

Jean cackled and shoved him back, hands lingering on his shoulders after.

"Today seemed like a good time to me. Think I handled it pretty well. But if you'd like to  _handle_ it differently..." He smirked and Marco tried to roll his eyes, but then Jean was looping an arm around his neck and kissing him again, and there wasn't room in his mind for anything but the way it felt to wrap his arms around Jean and kiss him back until they were both out of breath.

\--

When Marco heard the handle of the door - against which he'd had Jean pinned not even a few minutes before - jiggle and turn, he ran a hand through his disheveled hair and hoped his mouth was not so red and swollen as to give them away. His lips had barely left Jean's in the entire time they'd been alone. Jean caught sight of him fidgeting and laughed; Marco made a mental note to get back at him for that later.

Isabelle breezed into the living room, entirely distracted as she walked straight past them. From inside her bedroom down the hall, she called out to Marco, amid the sound of rustling and the opening of drawers.

"Hey, mom just called and said the bake sale's been canceled. It's supposed to rain tonight."

She emerged from her room with a larger bag slung over her shoulder, heading back for the front door, which Marco only then noticed she'd left slightly ajar. "I'm gonna go stay over at Sarah's house tonight. Her mom's gettin us pizza." She stopped for just a moment to look at Marco, probably eyeing the way he shifted under her stare, but then turned back to the door to leave. "Mom says she'll bring dinner home when she gets off, and to try not to burn the house down until then."

When she closed the door behind herself, Marco exhaled in relief and slumped against the wall behind him. Jean snickered at him for another minute or two, but then a serious, aggravated expression fell over his face.

"No bake sale. So we wasted all that time?" He motioned at the cooler sourly. Marco glanced up at the wall clock - still two hours until his mother was due home - and smiled, grabbing Jean's hand and walking him backward against the opposite wall.

"At least we  _learned_ a few things" he laughed. Jean smirked up at him, raising an eyebrow flirtatiously. They both knew Marco wasn't talking about the drinks anymore.

"Yeah" Jean breathed against his lips, nipping at them as he whispered. "But what are we supposed to  _do_ with it?"

Marco hooked an arm around his waist and grinned.

"Well, I  _am_ still kinda thirsty."


End file.
